


Suffering Normalcy

by themanbeneaththehat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Charming John doesn't really allow it either, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, In which Sherlock attempts to be normal but his personality just doesn't quite allow it, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Teenlock, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanbeneaththehat/pseuds/themanbeneaththehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinner and a movie. A normal first date and Sherlock can't think of anything that sounds more torturously dull. But he imagines that John is expecting a normal first date, and he wants to comply and not scare off John by being... himself. He soon learns, that John can make even the most boring of things fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suffering Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine's exchange on Johnlockchallenges.tumblr.com for the lovely "its-for-jam-sherlock" whose prompt was "Teen!lock on their first date." I hope you enjoy it!

Lost in his own mind, stretched out on the sofa, Sherlock lit the cigarette he had poised between his lips only to have it snatched away a moment later before he could take a satisfying drag from it.

"What, pray tell, do you think you're doing?" Mycroft asked as he snuffed out the stolen cigarette, ignoring Sherlock's disdainful glare.

"Thinking," he snapped, pulling another cigarette out of the pack. “What are you even doing in my flat?”

“It is my flat, if you ever cared to remember.” Mycroft rolled his eyes as Sherlock lit the cigarette with a taunting flair, and decided that it wasn’t worth the fight to take this one away as well. “I just let you stay here rent free out of the goodness of my heart while you are in university.”

“It’s my flat,” Sherlock grumbled under his breath.

“You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about your John Watson would you?”

“He isn’t _mine_ ,” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Maybe not yet, but you would clearly like him to be.”

Sherlock grew defensive, knowing his brother was mocking him. “Absolutely not. He’s no different than any of the others. Just another experiment.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s quite true,” Mycroft replied smugly. “You look positively nervous. He’s clearly not just a mere experiment to you. Look at you, you’re all jittery!” he laughed.

Sherlock stopped his fingers from drumming on his chest, looking shocked to see that his body was acting of its own volition. He had had no idea that he was doing that. “What of it?” Sherlock snapped. He was furious with himself for not being able to control his emotions better in front of his brother.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, Sherlock,” Mycroft smiled, “I rather think this Watson would be good for you.”

Sherlock glanced sidelong at his brother would had sat on the chair adjacent to the sofa. He was suspicious of this suddenly agreeable version of his brother. “I don’t need your blessing.”

“No, not technically. But it always makes things easier for all parties involved when we are on the same side.”

“I’m never on your side,” Sherlock contradicted purely out of stubbornness, even though he knew the truth of Mycroft’s words.

“Please refrain from being unnecessarily contrary. I am trying to assist you with your problem.”

“And what problem would that be exactly?”

“Well, you have invited Mr. Watson out for an evening together, a date if you will, tomorrow night and you have no idea what to plan.”

“I have no such problem.”

“Please try not to scare him away, Sherlock. As I said before, Watson could be a very good match for you. He seems to balance you out. I would hate for it to end before it truly even began. Take him out to dinner and maybe a movie if you can stand to suffer through one.”

“God, that sounds insipidly dull.”

“It does, doesn’t it,” Mycroft grimaced. “But John Watson is not like us, brother mine. He will appreciate the simplicity of the evening. Ease him into your particular brand of… eccentric. Don’t hit him with it all at once.”

***

Sherlock still wasn’t even sure why he had asked John out. Sherlock didn’t date. Sure, he wasn’t completely inexperienced. There was far too much data to be collected to just ignore the physical side of everything altogether. But actually, genuinely dating? Relationships? That was too far. And with John? That was even more ridiculous. They had only known each other for a few weeks and yet here Sherlock was ready to jump into something with John Watson of all people. But there was something about him that Sherlock was taken with. 

They were in the same biochemistry class at university, randomly paired up as lab partners for the term, pawns of fate. John, ever friendly and polite John, had immediately tried to engage Sherlock in conversation while they worked together. Sherlock of course, was extremely annoyed by this annoying boy’s incessant need to keep talking.

“So what are you studying?”

“Chemistry. Which is exactly what we should be doing now if you would ever stop talking.”

“It’s called multitasking. I’m keeping up with you here, aren’t I.” Sherlock squinted his eyes disdainfully but could not say that John was falling behind despite the chatter. 

“I’m on the pre-med track. If you were wondering. I’m sure you weren’t, but there you go.”

“Yes, I was aware of that already.”

“You knew?”

“I didn’t know, I saw.”

“What?”

“It’s obvious that you’re studying hard to get into medical school. Dark circles under your eyes indicate that you don’t get enough sleep because you are up late into the night doing coursework so that your grades never falter. You want to get into a good school after all, I’m assuming St. Bart’s medical college given its reputation, and good grades are necessary for such a school. Biochemistry is a typical class required for those on the pre-med track and you have a handful of anatomy and biology books in your bag. All signs point to you being an aspiring doctor.”

John was silent for the first time all class. Sherlock looked up from what he was doing to find John staring at him, eyes wide. After another moment of staring, John breathed out a surprising “Brilliant!”

“You think so?” Sherlock was genuinely surprised. His deduction hadn’t even been scathing, but even the mild one’s earned him glares.

“Of course. That was absolutely brilliant. You just saw all of that and figured out that I want to be a doctor?”

“It is rather obvious if you know how to look.”

“Brilliant,” he reiterated. Sherlock found that for once, such repetition didn’t bother him. “So, you’re studying chemistry. What do you plan on doing with that?”

“I’m only studying chemistry because it allows me access to a lab regularly. As I do not have one of my own, it is a rather useful resource for various experiments I have planned.”

“So, not using the degree then. So what are you going to do?”

“I have a keen interest in crime scene investigation.” 

“So you want to work for the police.”

“God no. They have to follow too many rules and there is far too much paperwork involved. But God knows the police need help, so maybe I’ll lend out my services to them and avoid all of the tedious aspects of the job.”

“Sounds amazing!” John laughed. “So where do you live? On campus?” An obvious choice of questions. The typical rundown of the list all students tended to ask each other when meeting another student for the first time. John was suddenly rather boring.

“God no. I couldn’t stand to be around the student body in such close quarters for any amount of time before wanting to set fire to the place.” To Sherlock’s surprise, John had giggled at that. A delightful, uncontrollable, high-pitched giggle. Sherlock felt a comforting warmth wash over him at the sound. Knowing that he had did that, had made such a sound escape John’s lips was a thrill and he wanted nothing more than to make John laugh like that again. The two had become nearly inseparable, always studying together or walking on campus to classes together, John always laughing delightedly at something impolite that Sherlock said. John Watson had surprised Sherlock by being so charming and carefree and yet also so completely accepting of Sherlock’s prickly personality. Not just accepting of it really, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy Sherlock’s company. 

Which led him to this dreaded evening, where he was expected to be normal and polite, as was custom for a first date. Sherlock thought about calling the whole thing off, phoning John and feigning an illness, even though he was already walking to where they agreed to meet. But then, as he rounded the corner, he saw John outside the cafe they had agreed to meet at, two cups of coffee in his hand, and a brilliant smile on his face when he caught Sherlock’s eye. All thoughts of canceling flew out of his mind. He would suffer through being normal for an evening for John and he would suffer gladly.

“Got you a coffee. Two sugars, just the way you like it,” John grinned as he offered Sherlock the paper cup. 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock smiled as he took a sip. It was perfect.

“So, what are we doing this evening?”

“I thought we could catch a film and then have dinner.” 

John quirked his head at the agenda, but his smile never faltered, “Sure, sounds like fun.”

Sherlock told John to pick whichever film he liked, as he had no preference, and they settled on some action film. Sherlock found himself growing more and more bored with the movie as it progressed, though John seemed to be enjoying it, so Sherlock suffered in near silence. Occasionally the impossibilities were too much to bear without even an exasperated huff. John seemed to find Sherlock's frustration amusing though because Sherlock had seen, out of the corner of his eye, John sneak a peek at him, an amused smirk on his face. Then he was leaning over, his mouth inches from Sherlock’s ear, whispering, “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” Sherlock lied, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen, only to have to roll them again that the absurdities he was witnessing.

“Oh come on,” John goaded, “tell me.”

“You know it’s not actually possible for an explosion of that size to have occurred given how small the car was, right? The ‘special effects’ supervisor,” he said, words dripping with disdain, “is clearly out of hand and should have been fired.” 

John snickered under his breath at this. 

“Oh come on, now,” Sherlock grumbled, “that’s not even possible! It goes against the law of physics!” John laughed even harder at that, causing a few other patrons to turn around a glare at him. Sherlock felt quite pleased with himself to have made John laugh loud enough to annoy other people. Like killing two birds with one stone. Sherlock heckled for the rest of the movie, and John laughed under his breath, and even through in a few of his own scathing comments. Sherlock was almost a little disappointed when the film ended he was having so much fun.

“That movie was utterly ridiculous, John,” Sherlock remarked as they walked out of the theater side by side. “I cannot believe that passes as entertainment these days. Remind me to never see a film again.”

“Hey, it was your idea to go see a movie! I just tried to pick one that wouldn’t be overly boring or a chick-flick. And they’re just trying to entertain simpletons like me,” he joked.

“You’re hardly a simpleton, John, even if you do enjoy such ludicrous forms of entertainment.”

“I think there was a compliment somewhere in there,” John smirked. 

Sherlock grinned in return but it quickly faltered away in shock as John slipped his hand into Sherlock’s as they continued their walk to the restaurant. John chattered away about the movie, classes, and other things. Sherlock threw in the occasional comment, but he was too focused on the pleasant feeling in his gut that had washed over him the second his skin touched John’s in such a simple, intimate way.

Dinner was spent with John trying to coax Sherlock to eat more than a few bites of his pasta and laughing over little stories they thought to tell each other. Sherlock was completely caught up in the infectiously carefree attitude of John and thought that maybe normal wasn’t so bad after all. Dinner and a movie had turned out to be a lot less boring than initially estimated when they were enjoyed in the company of John Watson.

Hand in hand, they walked back towards the university where John was living on campus. It was a little bit of a long walk, but the night was warm and lovely and they were having too good of a time to let the evening be cut any shorter by the speed of a cab ride. They walked leisurely, hand in hand, not even saying very much, just enjoying the quiet company of each other. They were still a fair distance from campus when red and blue flashing lights caught their attention down a side street they were passing by. They stopped momentarily to glance down the street but they were too far away to see anything properly. Sherlock wanted to go have a look, but thought that going to a crime scene on a first date was probably not a wise decision if he wanted the relationship to proceed from here. Mycroft’s words echoed in his mind: _Ease him into your particular brand of eccentric, don’t hit him with it all at once._ A crime scene would definitely bring out more of that than Sherlock wished to reveal right away. There would be no way to hold back his enthusiasm. If it was a murder, the enthusiasm would definitely seem misplaced and would scare away any sane individual. 

“Crime scene?” John asked curiously and Sherlock began to walk again, away from the lights.

“Most likely, yes.” 

“Well, let’s go have a look!” John said, pulling Sherlock back toward the side street.

“Really, John, we don’t have to,” Sherlock said, though he let John drag him along, providing only a little resistance. He didn’t want to let go of his hand for anything. 

“I know we don’t have to, but you obviously want to. You said you wanted to do this for a living and I want to see you use those powers of deduction for something more useful than figuring out that I want to be a doctor and scathing comments about the other students at the university,” John challenged with a grin. 

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, “Are you sure?”

“I am physically dragging you over there, Sherlock. Of course I’m sure.” Sherlock stopped his slight resistance and walked next to John. The crime scene was indeed the site of murder, to Sherlock’s carefully contained glee, though they had already taken the body away. The two stood at the edge of the tape, a few other onlookers there too, though they did not stay very long. 

“See anything?” John asked with a smile.

“It’s too hard to tell from here. I need to get closer.”

“Well, maybe once you start consulting for them you’ll be able too.”

“Maybe I should start offering them my services now then. Stay here.”

“Wait— what?” John felt Sherlock’s hand slip out of his and then the other boy was gone. He looked around quickly but Sherlock had just vanished. Then something caught his eye. Sherlock was inside of the tape, carefully walking around the chalk outline of the body. He looked so focused and intense as his eyes darted around. John looked around nervously but no one had seem to taken notice of the 18 year old kid that had just wandered onto their crime scene. John continued to watch as Sherlock walked slowly, body hunched down a bit, looking like he was following something along the ground. He came up to a large skip, grinned, then looked all around him, clearly looking for someone specific. When Sherlock spotted him he trotted over to the man and began explaining whatever it was he had seen, gesturing wildly. The man was stunned for a moment to see Sherlock standing there on the crime scene but then suddenly came back to himself and grew furious. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm to drag him off toward the tape. 

“Does this belong to you?” the detective inspector asked John gruffly as they approached, exasperated. 

“Er— yeah. Yeah he does,” John responded warily.

“Please try to keep him off crime scenes in the future. I am _this_ close to arresting him,” the DI snapped.

“Just go look at the skip! There’s a clear fingerprint in the blood there. The blood is fresh, so it’s undoubtedly the killer’s. The victim clearly wounded him, and as the victim was asphyxiated and not stabbed or shot or cut in anyway, it’s not his, but the killer’s.”

“Get him out of here,” the DI growled at John. 

“Hey boss!” a detective shouted from near the skip.

“What is it, Lestrade?” the DI responded, beyond fed up with everyone around him.

“The kid was right,” Lestrade responded a little warily, not wanting to get on his superiour’s bad side by agreeing with Sherlock, but unwilling to let such evidence slide by for the sake of pacifying the man. “There’s a perfect fingerprint here. I can’t believe we missed it.”

“Smart man over there, to listen to me. Maybe he should have your job,” Sherlock said dryly.

The DI turned a furious shade of red as he said “Get him out before I arrest him,” before storming off to the skip.

“So, I almost got arrested on our first date,” Sherlock said sheepishly as he ducked under the tape.

John laughed loudly, earning another glare from the grumpy DI, “Yes, but you were rather brilliant.”

“John, you are quite the marvel.”

“Oh, I know,” John teased.

Surrounded by angry detectives and flashing lights, and on a crime scene of all places, Sherlock thought it was the perfect opportunity to duck his head down and capture John’s lips with his own. John responded with a happy hum to the the chaste kiss, resting his hands on Sherlock’s waist. 

“So how are we going to top this date? It was pretty spectacular. We may have peaked.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Sherlock grinned and leaned down to kiss John once more. 

Maybe things didn’t have to be so normal after all. 

 


End file.
